The 'Wayniacs' come out to play By Tom Brooker News-Chronicle I've got only a few moments to scribble out this column before having to get myself ready for Crawdaddy Days at Eaton, so don't go looking for any great shakes this week. I just can't keep spoiling you with brilliant writing time after time. So, here it is. Take it or leave it. I'm running late ... Mary Ann G. from Green Bay kicks it off: "I saw you slinking into the Oneida Casino last week, trying hard not to be recognized. Is this the price of fame? If so, I want you to know I honored your privacy and chose not to make a big deal out of seeing you. Do you get barraged by fans whenever you go out in public?" Answer: Well, how sweet of you, Mary Ann. But I want to set the record straight. I was not "slinking" into the casino to avoid contact with my thousands of avid and rabid fans; nor was I trying to disguise any kind of severe gambling addiction I may or may not have (and you can bet on that). No. I was slinking into the casino because I didn't want anyone to know that I - worshipper of Santana and Counting Crows, wannabe groupie for ZZ Top and Alice Cooper - went to a (gulp!) Wayne Newton concert. I know. I know. That's like a whorehouse madam going to a tent revival, but I did go, so there. Now, because I have taken the Editor's Oath and sworn myself to being ever-objective, I must confess I'm glad I went. First of all, I was pleased to note that I was NOT the youngest member in the audience. Out of the couple of thousands of "Wayniacs" there, at least a dozen or so were kids in their 40s. And, despite the fact that Wayne's voice can no longer hit any high notes (or medium-high notes or little, itty-bitty in-between notes), he disguises that fact well and is nonetheless very entertaining. F'rinstance, I had no idea Mr. Newton is a virtuoso on the (and this is the honestagod truth) piano, guitar, banjo, violin and God only knows what else he would have played if his band didn't start hiding their instruments. The smartest thing he has done, however, is hire a Wayne Newton impersonator (I swear to God this is true; the guy's from West Bend!) so the audience did get to hear something close to what they paid to hear, only not from Wayne Newton. And, hey, the tickets were only 10 bucks. Danke shoen! And then this from George B. of Midland, Texas, "Howdy, Tommie Boy! I was in Green Bay last Wednesday and I gotta say I was disappointed you didn't come to see me. I thought we could go down memory lane for a spell and then jaw about a couple of issues I've been bird-doggin': Nukelar power. Dove huntin'. Capital punishment and the like. It's time you and this good ol' boy got back together, dontcha think? It's been way too long." Answer: You've sure got some crust, Georgie Boy. Either that, or a REALLY short memory. You sure-nuff musta forgot about that time we were in the Guard together and I waited for you on the flight line for days and days and DAYS, and you never showed up. Now, you turn up out of nowhere after all these years with no letters, no phone calls, no "Gee, Tom, how'd you like one of these big-ol' medals I get to hand out?" No "How's bout spendin' a few nights as my guest in the Lincoln Bedroom just as soon as I kick Kenny Lay out of there?" NO NOTHING! Now, if you'd have come a day earlier and maybe - JUST MAYBE - wanted to go to a Wayne Newton concert ... well then, that might have been different. I think I could have chucked my weight around (I'm a big-wig here in Green Bay, you know) and scored a few tickets, or maybe we could have pig-wrassled some old lady to the ground and torn those suckers from her skinny little hands, just like we used to in the old days with the Skull and Bones (before that damn prig-puss Kerry put an end to it) so we could go see Jefferson Airplane. No, Georgie. I've got little truck with you these days. As far as I'm concerned, you're all the Capital Punishment I need in one life. (By the way, why didn't you tell me Wayne Newton could play such a mean-ol' fiddle ... ?) - Tom Brooker is a recovering editor of The Green Bay News-Chronicle. You can ask him anything through regular mail (P.O. Box 2467, Green Bay, WI 54306) or e-mail, [email protected].